


Splinters

by ShippersList



Series: Whumptober 2018 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Gen, Loss of Trust, Trust Issues, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: From Fury, Clint would expect anything, really. But Nat was supposed to know better.Whumptober prompt: Betrayed.





	Splinters

Six months after the Battle of New York, and the city was almost back to its feet. Aided with the brand new Stark Relief Foundation, the rubble had been cleared out and damaged buildings had been repaired. It was almost like a cleanly cauterized wound; the scar was visibly there but it didn’t bleed anymore.

Clint hunched his shoulders and pushed his way into the small coffee shop. It was packed with people who wanted a strong brew instead of overly sugary hipster drinks that had more to do with fancy Instagram filters than actual coffee. Clint was there because…well.

It was six months after the Battle of New York but unlike the city’s wounds, Clint’s own were still bleeding sluggishly. Thanks to Nat’s mental recalibration, he’d been able to shake off Loki’s mindrape almost completely (even though he figured he’d have blue-tinted nightmares until the day he finally died), but the other, bigger wound hadn’t gone anywhere.

Because Phil was dead and _nothing_ mattered.

Oh, Clint was able to function. He was more than capable of completing a mission, attending team briefings, and sparring until he was black and blue and collapsed from sheer exhaustion. But nothing helped filling out the gaping void in his heart that was the absence of Phil Coulson.

Clint had loved Phil for so long that he didn’t know what his life even was without him. Phil had been his anchor, his port in the storm, the steady voice in his ear keeping him sane when an op went belly-up in Hell. He’d never told Phil, of course, but the knowledge of Phil being there had been enough.

And now Clint was adrift.

There were only three customers in front of him so it didn’t take him long to hand over the eco-friendly travel mugs Nat had bought and place his order, and a short moment later, he was out again. Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings and—

”You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Clint breathed.

Because there, right across the street was Phil.

To someone else, he would’ve seemed just someone who looked a lot like Phil, but after over a decade with the man, Clint recognized him even with the slightly bent posture and stiff walk. He drank the sight in with wide eyes and didn’t realize he’d cracked the other travel mug until hot coffee seeped from the crack and burned his skin. Startled, he glanced down, hissed at the feeling and dropped the mug, ignoring the way coffee spilled across the sidewalk. When he looked back across the street, Phil was gone.

Shit.

 

* * *

 

”Where’s my coffee?” Nat asked without looking at him. She was painting her toenails bright purple, something Clint approved of.

”Phil’s alive,” he said quietly.

Some emotion Clint couldn’t name flashed across her face, barely there and then gone. ”Oh?” She said, her voice a perfect blend of curiosity and disbelief.

And then it hit him.

”You knew,” Clint said flatly.

She straightened her pose, screwed the nail polish cork on, and turned her head to look at him. ”Fury told me not to let you know.”

”Since when have you done what Fury asked?” Clint asked, incredulous.

”Your infatuation on Phil worried me,” she said calmly.

”It wasn’t an _infatuation_ ,” he snapped. ”I loved him!”

Her eyes softened and he averted his eyes, unwilling to witness her inevitable pity. Instead, he shook his head and huffed, his mouth drawing into a self-deprecating smile. ”I understand that Fury lied to me, he’s _the_ spy after all. And I guess I can understand why Phil lied to me because we…” He paused. ”Well, there never was a ’we,’ so…

”But you…”

He raised his head to give Nat a level look, not even slightly surprised when his vision started to blur. ”You were supposed to know better, Nat. You were my sister, the better half of my heart. And _you lied to me_.”

He leaned heavily against the wall and slid to sit down, hugging his bent knees. He felt like he was drowning on dry land and he had no idea what to do.

”I’m sorry,” Nat said quietly.

”Yeah,” he said after a moment.

He heard the couch creak when she got up and walked to him, slid down to sit by his side.

”Are we okay?” She asked, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

Clint closed his eyes and swallowed.

Were they? He didn’t know anymore.

And yet…

”Yeah,” he croaked.

Perhaps someday the gaping hole in his chest would hurt a little less.

Until then, what choice he had but to go on?


End file.
